


ugly

by deadbeatfreak99



Category: Eminem (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I suppose?, M/M, Toxic Relationship, kim is in the first chapter, marshall has an anxiety attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadbeatfreak99/pseuds/deadbeatfreak99
Summary: ❝Why are you lookin' at my face? You think I'm ugly, don't you?❞《In which slow rising suns come with the appearance of a man and the title of best friends is no longer fitting.》
Relationships: Eminem/Proof
Comments: 32
Kudos: 45





	1. + even when night falls - one

**Author's Note:**

> not the best, but i tried. inspired by the fact that em constantly calls himself ugly and i beg to differ.   
> this is my second and probably last fic for eminem, the first being metamorphosis.  
> i hope you like it (:

A typical Thursday night, the same as most other nights. Typical as it was in any other relationship, Marshall assumed, just perhaps slightly more fierce. Anything that can be grabbed in one hasty hand was thrown: a purse, a shoe, a couple plates and glasses that smashed against the tearing wallpaper beside his crouched head, encased defensively in his forearms.

"Bastard, why do you always have to start shit with me?" His girlfriend screamed hoarsely, throat soar and tears of rage sitting in her squinted eyes, "Don't you see that I'm the best you'll ever get? If you keep throwing me away, nobody else is gonna love an ugly, retarded prick like you!"

He unwound himself, if only a fraction, meeting her gaze across the kitchen table that divided them for the first time since the commotion began.

"I didn't say shit, damn bitch!" He shouted back, voice quivering in a way that didn't quite make it clear whether it was the effect of fear or adrenaline, "I was just sayin' that I can't be the only one to bring in the money. I need to focus on my music and I －"

A cheap glass of the few they owned shattered and rained down upon his back in fragments, some shards slipping beneath his oversized hoodie and nestling into his short trimmed hair, others scattering around his feet amidst the rest.

"Music? You're going nowhere with that crap!" Came the screeched words, and Marshall's eyes squeezed tighter, pushing away the incessant sting in his sockets and in his skin, "How about getting an actual job that pays well instead of wasting time writing rhymes a fuck up could think of while he's taking a shit?"

 _That's not true. I've been doing well at the shelter, people are starting to like my raps_ , he thought, but didn't have the courage to utter. _Rhyming is all I'm good at, the only thing. You can't take that away from me. If you do －_

"I'll have nothing." A whisper, tumbling from between his busted lips before he could stop it.

For a moment, there was silence. Marshall remained immobile, hunched over, Kim remained standing with a hand pulling at her dishevelled hair, blinking at the frame of the man opposite her.

"What?"

Marshall's lungs felt to be collapsing, his heart stuttering, his hands cursed with a tremor that appeared alongside his terror. The yelling made him anxious, brought back scenes of his childhood to mind, and he couldn't help the fact that he was scared.

"Without rap I have nothing, Kim. Nothing. You can't take it away from me."

"You mean rap is more important to you than I am?" The tone of voice was eerily calm, but Marshall was not fooled. He knew what was going to follow, but there was no path to escape.

"That ain't what I'm saying, baby, I just －"

Half a broken plate this time, picked off of the ground, crashing into his shoulder sharp tip first before apologetically dropping away. Marshall hissed and clutched at the fresh cut in his upper bicep, feeling the warmth of his own blood through the material of his top, meeting his fingertips.

He wanted to fight back. He wanted to shove her against the table. Slap her like she had done to him. But he was tired. Tonight, he was tired. So he let it be. He fell into a state of muted reactions and submissive stances.

"Don't fucking call me baby when you don't even give a rat's ass about me!"

_That's not true. I love you. God, I love you so much._

"This is why your mum did what she did, you heartless prick. Why do you think I'm with you? Because you're loveable? I just have pity on your useless ass. You're stupid and talentless, what good would you be as a husband? You hardly even bring in cash. I'm the only who will bother being by your side, nobody else will ever willingly stay with you. You're so ugly I don't even know how I kiss you."

A pause. Heavy breathing. Marshall was struggling to intake all the words hurled at him.

She was right. Of course she was right. His mother must have had her reasons for shoving pills down his throat. Why else would she if not to try and make her disaster of a son better? He was stupid, failed ninth grade three times, a school dropout. His bullies always told him how dumb and hated he was as they beat him. He did only bring in the bare minimum amount of money from his two jobs, and yes having three occupations instead would be hard, but he should do it if he really loved her. Nobody would ever love him. He was so lucky to have her who was willing to stay with him. He was ugly. He was lucky she even held him. He had to do whatever he could to keep her.

"Get out."

He was startled from his thoughts, eyelids fluttering in a sort of awakening from a bad dream to a nightmare. His back straightened, arms drooping to his sides, crystal blue eyes contrasting with the red around them, shimmering with tears that were shed at a continuous flow.

"Wh-What?"

"Get out!" Kim was quick to command, "Out! I don't want you here!"

His heart sped, faster, harsher.

"Ba－ Kim, wait."

An empty plastic bottle hit his head before he could consider his next words.

"Get out of here Marshall or I swear I'm callin' the fucking police."

"Wait, calm down. Kim," no response, "Kim," he tried again, "I love you. I really do. Please, don't －" the words caught in his throat, a sob bubbling out of him, "don't kick me out. Forgive me, please. Baby, I promise I'll get another job. I'll － I'll spend less time on music. I'll. . ."

"Once you actually do that I'll let you in. Tonight you're stayin' out. I can't stand the idea of sleeping in the same place as you."

The blade in his gut twisted, jerked, jagged edge slicing deeper inside. He was going to walk to her, attempt to embrace the woman who glared at him with a hatred that made his flesh sizzle, but he stopped himself when he saw her arm twitch, threatening.

His feet dragged backwards, heavily, slowly, as if moving too quickly would trigger a negative response, an attack. He couldn't bring his vocal chords to vibrate, he couldn't make his jaw move properly to aid possible speech. All but his legs was stiffened to stone, rigid and tense.

With his front always facing his partner, his back hit the front door with a muffled thud, his quivering grip fastened around the handle, and then he was fumbling out, a slam of urgency declaring the end of their fight. 


	2. + (alone) - interlude

It was past two in the morning: the moon was high but shrouded by hovering grey clouds that selfishly nestled in her light, the air was frost settling on his exposed skin, the few, cheap street bulbs dangling from their wires hardly did their job, casting dim yellow upon what they could reach. The keys to his second-hand car were back inside, along with his hat, and he pressed a palm down atop his head, flattening his ash brown hair forwards. 

His eyes flickered around him, noting how no one seemed to be around in the road of shacks for homes, some windows creaking when the breeze would occassionally pick up.

Marshall sighed. Defeated, powerless, mulling over what had just transpired. He strained his ears in a pathetic try at hearing what Kim was doing inside, but apart from shuffling he heard nothing of any indication and gave up; as he seemed to be wanting to do when it came to everything lately. 

His body, more than sat, collapsed onto the doorstep, back and the crown of his head resting against the makeshift porch's post. Pulling his knees to his chest, he placed his forearms upon them, fingers wringing together as his gaze drifted up to the dull sky. 

The wind stung at the tear tracks that streaked his flushed cheeks, but he couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. He'd let it sting, he'd let himself freeze. This was what he deserved for not being enough, for being the walking disaster he was. Kim was right. She was rough and harsh, but she wasn't a liar. He could be doing better, he just wasn't. More than having limits, he was just lazy. 

Tears seemed non-ending and the weight of the night eventually pulled his eyelids shut and his mind to the land of sleep. His body flinched from time to time with the cold it suffered, his arms wrapping around his waist in a feeble hug, and his back began to ache terribly but he slept, face still damp and cut still burning weakly. 


	3. + the sun will soon rise - two

When the sun had begun to rise he didn't know, but his body recognised the augmenting temperature and accepted it gratefully. It was the mumbled call of his name in a tone of bafflement, the warm hand that clasped his shoulder and lightly jostled him until he woke, that brought him into the new day.

His lashes fluttered, clumped together by dried tears, irises honing in on the blurred form of a familiar figure.

"Doody?"

"Marshall," came the response of affirmation, a voice that sparked calm within the tempest in his ribs, "The fuck happened, dawg? She kick you out again?"

The brunet's head bobbed, heavy upon his neck that felt frighteningly close to snapping. The sigh which left his friend's mouth fell upon deaf ears, all his focus going into hardening his muscles, urging them to move into a more comfortable position. His spine protested along with his numb legs, he hissed and spilled a quiet curse, and then Deshaun was aiding him with his shift.

"Thank you," Marshall murmured, prior to his eyes widening in abrupt panic, "Wait," his sight flew to meet that of the younger, "what time is it? My shift! I'm － I'm going to be late."

Deshaun appeared to consider a thought for an instant and then huffed, patting his friend's head whilst he sat himself abreast him, almost as one does to their pet dog with affection in his touch.

"It's only half six. I'm sure Marcel will take over for you, don't stress."

The words didn't do much to quell Marshall's concern, his reply ready to leave him － _Yeah, but it's not right and if the manager comes by then we're both screwed_ － but Deshaun had narrowed his stare in a silent warning to not voice such a thing and Marshall forcibly gulped it down, nodding in a submission that was growing to be part of him.

"Oh, but you're on your way to work t－"

"Man stop, I'll say I was sick or whatever, it don't matter."

Silence blanketed them for some moments, Marshall's fingers knotting together as Deshaun sat with his arms on his legs, both facing ahead, one with his head to his lap and the other intent on watching the rustling unkempt bushes across the street. A subtle movement and the dark male's eyes turned to gaze at the profile of the fairer, and then fell to the rust tinted red that made a patch of itself on the latter's shoulder. With greater attention, Deshaun spotted the cut that was the cause of it and a sensation festered within the depths of his stomach － anger.

His nimble hand snapped out for the arm, slowing before coming into contact with the injury, but it was already too late, Marshall having flinched away and looked up at the younger with something in his eyes that only worsened the feeling in Deshaun's stomach.

Bloodshot eyes, pink around the rims with how sore the skin had become, baby blue somehow bright in the pale, early morning light.

Deshaun's jaw clenched, his palm setting onto his knee after being rejected.

"Did she do this shit?" he asked, unwilling to beat around the bush, "You're fuckin' bleeding, Marsh."

The addressed man squirmed slightly, a hand rubbing at his clothed forearm before his hushed reply came, "I threw a punch at her last time. I deserved this."

"No. You don't deserve it just as much as she don't."

Marshall's head shook from side to side, denying such an affirmation before he buried his face in his hands. He intook a breath but it was rugged and unsteady, his shoulders rising drastically, but instead of falling lax they became rigid. Deshaun almost spoke when a muffled sob reached his ears, and his heart cringed.

"She's right, Doody, she's right."

He was apprehensive to talk, afraid he'd misstep, but he couldn't keep quiet in the presence of his friend shattering beneath the load strapped to his back.

"Right about what?"

"Everything," a choked cry, "Everything. I － I'm useless. I'm not going anywhere in life. I'm kidding myself with my rhymes, ain't shit ever gonna turn around. I don't deserve a woman like her," he paused, roughly fisted at his soaked eyes, tears darkening patches of his sleeves, irises locking with those of Deshaun, "Look at me, I'm a mess. A weakling. I'm a good for nothing piece of trash who's ugly as all fuck and yet here I am, pushing away a girlfriend like Kim, who's kind enough to keep me. I'm pathetic."

"Marshall, you are the least pathetic person I know," Deshaun attempted to say sternly, doing his best to find sight of his friend's eyes again, that had since drifted to the dry and yellowed grass growing beneath the step; however, he received a scoff, crystalline irises rolling.

"Don't give me that bullshit," he bit back, unaware or perhaps not caring about the tears that still flowed along his blotching face, "You and I both know that I'm basically the embodiment of the word."

Deshaun set his hand upon Marshall's shoulder, ignoring the miniscule flinch and merely grateful the older was peeking at him again through his lashes instead of averting his gaze. He didn't speak immediately, noticing with a frown that the other's chest was rising and falling unnaturally fast and gradually sharper. He could begin to hear Marshall's heavy breathing but their stare never broke until he abruptly turned away, his breaths hitching to a new speed. Deshaun's concern bubbled within its pot, dangerously close to over-flowing.

"Marsh? Doody," he tried to get a response out of the man but whether Marshall was even hearing the calling of his name was a mystery. Deshaun's brow furrowed, forehead wrinkling as he placed his second hand on the brunet's free shoulder, clutching him securely as he turned his torso to face him.

"Marshall, what's happening? Are you in pain somewhere?"

Said man gave a small shake of his head, and the muted reply minimally eased Deshaun's panic, but Marshall's chin remained tucked into his neck, his body beginning to swing back and forth as if he were trying to rock himself into a sense of security, his arms fastened around himself.

"Okay, okay Marshall, look at me." Nothing. "Marshall, look up. Breathe." He took hold of the man's jaw, urging his head to lift, seeing that Marshall's eyelids were squeezed shut to the point that the edges violently crinkled his paper white skin.

The trails of rivers from his eyes joined with the saliva that would occassionally splatter from the rims of his gaping mouth, the sound of his inhales akin more to wheezes.

"Marsh, open your eyes for me, come on. Close your mouth and try breathing slower, ya hear me?" Nothing. "Marsh?"

A whine of some sort was released, and Deshaun took it as an okay once he saw Marshall's eyes gradually pull open, even if they would keep fluttering shut, as if it were too hard to hold them apart. Deshaun's gaze noted the way Marshall's cold hands had begun to cramp into a tense and surely uncomfortable position, the same with his legs, but he figured slowing his breathing was the next best step to focus on.

"You're doing great, pal, real good," he praised with the softest tone he could currently muster, "Now keep those pretty lips together and take deep breaths from your nose, alright?"

Marshall attempted doing as told, his jaw stiffening shut before breaking open to sharply inhale. He wasn't managing, he wasn't. He couldn't, and Deshaun will be upset with him if he doesn't manage.

As though the taller had read the muddled thoughts as they crossed Marshall's frenzied mind, he was quick to speak up.

"You're doing great. You're okay. Keep trying."

Marshall nodded, determination setting on his face contorted by the pain his muscles screamed at him and the internal conflict that had begun to sizzle within him long ago.

His lips remained pressed into a tight line, his body easing its rocking as his breathing slowly but surely grew steadier.

"That's it, baby, that's it." Deshaun's warm hands were still on him, one having remained holding his face but now lightly set on his cheek, thumb carefully wiping a tear away from time to time, while the other caressed up and down his right bicep.

The stream was persistent down those supple cheeks, the saliva having almost completely dried from around his cherry, puffed lips except for the fresher dribbles, and now they had been holding one another's gaze for over five minutes as Marshall calmed himself. All he could think of was that it actually happened, his best friend had just witnessed one of his attacks for the first time; and he was embarrassed, ashamed. Look at him, an adult, getting anxiety attacks over some stupid shit a grown man would handle easily. What did Deshaun think of him now? Did he also think Marshall was a pitiful cry baby? Marshall was afraid. 


	4. + you'll be embraced by its light - three

The latter hardly registered the warmth that still comforted his face and the profound irises that intently studied his every twitch: the way his right eyelid kept squinting, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheeks, his gaze that kept flicking about, the way he grew skittish.

"Marsh?" The tone of voice was delicate, possibly the most tentative and quiet he had ever heard his friend speak, and it nearly felt as though he were forced to meet his stare again. 

The slight movement of his head made him nudge deeper into Deshaun's hand that remained cupping his cheek, and he startled, if only a fraction, eyes darting to the hand and back up, surprised to see the sheer worry and bafflement stitched into the younger's features. 

A number of seconds passed in silence and then he blinked. 

"I'm sorry." 

It was all he could fathom saying in such a moment, after having put his friend through the whole ordeal. It's not like Deshaun deserved to have his morning ruined just because Marshall couldn't stand on his own two feet.

"The fuck you apologising for, Doody? Are you feelin' fine now?" 

What did that matter? Marshall was eager to nod though, desperate to play the whole event off as if it never transpired at all, but with the way Deshaun was looking at him, a concoction of emotions painting every inch of his dark skin, he doubted he would get what he wanted. 

"I'm glad." A pause, a moment's apprehension, "What was that?" 

Marshall debated on shrugging the hands off of him － for hadn't they been in this intimate position for too long? Weren't they leaning a tad too near to each other and wasn't the way Deshaun's thumb continuously circled his cheek rather romantic? － but he didn't want to seem ungrateful in any way and the smoothness of the man's skin was soothing for his heart that still beat roughly and his brain that was still muddled.

"Just an attack," Marshall replied as casually as he could, "I've gotten worse before, no big deal. I'm sorry for makin' you worry over nothing. I'm okay."

Deshaun seemed both dubious and somehow offended, "You've been through this crap before and didn't tell me? What's with that? Y'know I would help you out or at least be there for you, man."

Marshall bobbed his head, swallowing thickly prior to swiping his tongue over his lips, unaware of the way the other's eyes caught the movement.

"Course I know that, I just don't think it's anything important enough for you to stress over."

The hand on his arm stopped its rubbing and instead fell still, fingers wrapped around faint muscle as Deshaun seemed to ponder over something. 

"No matter what, you need to tell me about these things. Big or not big, I want to know if you're going through shit, a'ight?"

Marshall's eyes flickered away for an instant, the tips of his ears turning a soft hue of pink, and when he didn't reply Deshaun gently tugged his face closer, successfully grabbing his attention once more.

"A'ight?" he asked again, demanding a positive reply. 

Round, blue crystals blinked back at him, wider with surprise and Deshaun could have sworn that the heat his palm was feeling was not his own, but being radiated by the older's quickly reddening face.

A feeling jolted within his stomach, then travelled to his chest. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows drew nearer as he attempted discerning what it was that sizzled beneath his skin. 

"What's － What's wrong?" The brunet was hesitant to ask, worry already setting into the pools of his ocean eyes. 

Deshaun's jaw tensed. Marshall really was attractive up-close. Freckles on his pale skin, eyes that glistened like an oasis beneath the sun, his slightly crooked nose and eternally pouting lips; his face was made of soft curves and delicate flesh, no harsh lines nor ugly imperfections. Deshaun had seen him countless times, he knew his face well, and yet somehow it felt new. He stayed stock-still, contemplating, analysing. 

"Deshaun?" Marshall tried pulling back but was held in place by the former's grip. He stopped trying and instead returned Deshaun's stare. "What is it? Why are you lookin' at my face? You think I'm ugly, don't you?"

Clearly, he had said the wrong thing. The younger's expression screwed in frustration and disagreement, as if he had smelt something foul.

"Marsh, will you stop believing all the shit Kim tells you for one damn second?"

". . . She's not the only one who thinks so," the brunet countered timidly, "you know they used to say it too."

Bringing up his past of intense bullying was not on his list of fun things to do, and Deshaun seemingly hated being reminded of the time as well, but Marshall couldn't just erase it from his past and pretend that it had no effect on him at all. 

"Those fuckers said nothing but bullcrap, how'd'you ever take their words seriously?" 

Marshall shrugged his free shoulder, almost nonchalant because it was just the way it was, and he couldn't change it. 

"Maybe because they beat my head against the toilet enough times that the words sunk in."


	5. + and you shall feel its warmth - four

He could feel it before he could see it, the partially stronger grip on his arm and the stronger press on his face; Deshaun always got upset when hearing of Marshall's past, more so than the latter himself. It took him by surprise when the younger abruptly let go of his bicep and then clutched the man's face between both his palms, Marshall's cheeks squishing up and his lips pursing slightly as a result. Deshaun gave a grin, or maybe it was more of a bemused smirk.

The confusion adorning Marshall's face was strangely adorable, his ears fuchsia and his diamond eyes round, mouth parted and cherry red from his harsh nibbling on the flesh.

Giving a short laugh from his nose at the sight and ignoring the frown that followed from the teased male, Deshaun brought their faces nearer, almost tauntingly. The reason why was foggy even to him, but he liked how Marshall was reacting and hey, if it's all in the name of fun, then what's the fuss about?

"Okay, Marsh, now you're gonna repeat after me or I'll never let go of you and you'll remain with this fish-face all your life."

Still feigning bother, Marshall grumpily nodded in surrender, as much as he could in his position anyway. He noticed that the sides of their thighs were pressed together, that if he concentrated enough he could feel Deshaun's breath on his skin and hear him inhale, slow, steady, and he subconsciously matched their pace.

"I'm a damn great rapper and I have faith in my skills."

Marshall visibly grimaced, as if the words were corny enough to physically sting him.

"Do I really have to －"

The hold on his face fastened.

"Yeah, Doody, you do."

They held one another's stare for seconds on end, a wordless battle possibly as intense as the underground rap ones Deshaun would push them to partake in. Marshall, despite his hate for losing, caved relatively quickly, well-aware of how his entire body seemed to be burning red and wanting it to pass as soon as possible － which wouldn't happen until Deshaun put more distance between them and let go and shit, if he puckered his lips and leaned in a few centimetres they'd － he stopped the thought before he could continue it. Lack of sleep and still being emotionally vulnerable was making wack ideas come to mind.

He huffed, which admittedly was also hard to do when your cheeks are pressed together.

"I'm a damn great rapper and I have faith in my skills," he mumbled begrudgingly, eyes unable to meet those of his friend for any longer.

Deshaun beamed.

"I'm better than what people think of me and I get stronger everyday."

Marshall cocked a brow as a sign of doubt but monotonously parroted the statement nonetheless.

"I'm worth respect and deserve to be loved," Deshaun proceeded, satisfied with hearing words that, for once, weren't self-derogatory leave Marshall's tongue and wanting to witness more.

The older hesitated, gaze flickering up and down, the uncertainty bare in his eyes.

"Look, Deshaun. . ."

"No, c'mon man, say it."

Silence.

"Marshall."

"I'm worth respect and deserve to be loved."

"And now: I'm a really cool and handsome guy who anyone would be lucky to have."

It appeared that that was the final brick in the wall for Marshall, his cheeks flaring decisively redder than Deshaun had ever seen them and his eyes only barely peeking up at the latter through his lashes, the vibrant colour dripping from his ears and along his neck, welcoming Deshaun's firm touch.

"D-Doody I －"

"Marsh, believe me when I say you're one of the best dudes I know."

The brunet blinked.

"Really? You're not just sayin' that?"

Deshaun shook his head, a smile still morphing his lips.

"Swear to God, I would do anything for your tiny white ass to be happy."

A shaky chuckle spilled from Marshall's lips, a tune that seemed to have been played using Deshaun's heart strings.

Oh.

"I'd do anything for you too, man."

"I know you would."

Again, the sea met land, their noses oddly closer than before, and Marshall half wondered if they were moving nearer by accident or on purpose. What if someone saw －

"Stop wreckin' that cute brain of yours and repeat what I told you to say before I make you."

Marshall fumbled with words, pursed lips parting and closing like a fish out of water.

" _Cu_ － _Make me?_ Doody －"

A feather-light brush of lips on skin, just beside his nose and below his left eye, and Deshaun didn't fully move back once it was done, but rather let his mouth hover millimetres above Marshall's cheek.

"Do you believe that I'll make you?"

The older couldn't formulate a response, his mind in a disastrous state that ranged from: _what the fuck just happened?_ to _holy shit it happened and why did it not bother him?_ － Deshaun didn't take the silence negatively, but he did lean back and meet Marshall's astounded stare. He looked like a lost child, but somewhat excited, a glisten to his irises that made Deshaun's stomach swirl inside him.

He offered a timid smile, feeling rather nervous now that he had already made a move without having even fully comprehended his own motives.

"Well?"

Marshall's vocal chords went out of function, capable only of producing meek sounds and disjointed syllables. Deshaun leaned in again, repeating the kiss to his right cheek, this time permitting himself to linger for some moments longer. He had never imagined him doing such a thing, but it felt like something bubbling within him had overheated and kissing his best friend was the only sedative.

He took the chance to appreciate the smoothness of the skin, the faint smell of washing liquid that stayed with Marshall after every shift he had as a dish washer in a drab diner.

To pull him out of his thoughts － he hadn't even realised that his eyes had fallen shut － was the weak hold on his shoulder, a trembling hand setting itself on the area just beneath his neck.

"I'm a cool and. . . handsome guy who anyone would be lucky to have."

Deshaun exhaled a laugh through his nose, tickling at the brunet's sensitive ear.

"There you go," he said, finally pulling away, "Was that so hard?"

The two were still holding each other, cheeks still flushed and blue eyes misty with an array of distinct emotions for moments that stretched on, and then Deshaun was the one to be in shock, Marshall managing to move swiftly towards him and press their mouths together. It felt scared, like a stolen kiss, Marshall's eyes firmly shut, but though neither was brave enough to actually take it further, neither wanted to break away.

Some instances later and Marshall eased into it, delicately sighing with an ineffable relief, and then Deshaun's hands were moving to his hips, the former's holding the nape of his neck and the side of his face.

Apprehensively Deshaun nudged his mouth harder against that of Marshall and when he received no sign to stop, he began to move his lips. Before either could comprehend their own actions, they were making out on the doorstep of the older's home.

It felt like minutes and hours, both too short and long enough, when they parted, breathing heavy.

"What are we doing?" Deshaun asked, a chuckle underlying his question.

Marshall shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing that of the opposite man.

"I don't know."

Riding the strange state of euphoria and adrenaline, the pair fell into a fit of laughter, their foreheads coming to meet until the last tinkle of mirth left their lips.

Neither was sure what it all meant, but at that moment in time they didn't care. Whatever followed, they knew would be better than what they had and certainly more beautiful.


End file.
